Ode to a Butterfly
by TheShoelessOne
Summary: Mal didn't know Kaylee had a sister. What a wedding can do to a crew like this one. Rayne.


**Ode to a Butterfly**

Mal hadn't known Kaylee had a sister. Of course, he hadn't asked, and the subject hadn't been broached, so he hadn't known. So when the invitations had come, Mal was more than a little surprised to hear that he and all his crew was summoned to witness the marriage of Anastasia Bella Frye to Andrew David McGuiness.

When time for truth was at hand, Kaylee had three sisters, of which she was youngest. She just never saw the need to mention it on the ship. And it was those youngest-child charms that won the bitter old captain over at last. They were on Greenleaf within the week, a day early for the wedding.

"Mrs. Frye," Mal said warmly as he shook the red-headed woman's hand warmly, "it surely is a hell of a pleasure t' meet ya."

"Captain Reynolds," Mrs. Frye said with a smile paradoxically wider than Kaylee's, "y'all can call me Ma, or Ma Frye if'n y' feel a little shy. Little Kaylee crows on and on 'bout ya t' no end--all 'a ya, don't feel left out now," she added as the crew headed down _Serenity_'s loading ramp.

Kaylee took the ramp at a run, practically jumping into her mother's arms with a girlish squeal of ear-shattering proportions. They embraced long and hard, laughing and crying. Ma Frye wiped away the tears, grinning in a familiar way up at the descending crew.

"Well, I know my own little girl," she said, running her fingers fondly through Kaylee's hair, "but who're all these fine-lookin' folk? No, wait," she held up a finger before her daughter got a word in. "Lemme guess, won't ya? See if yer letters are as good at the wordin' and describin' as your pa and me think they are."

Her finger pointed immediately at Wash, who jumped slightly as if he'd been suddenly accused of something. "Y'all must be the pilot. Wash?" She looked at her daughter for clarification. Kaylee nodded, looking giddy and biting her lower lip to keep from laughing any further. "Now, see, I just knew by his face. Got a kind look about him."

Wash blinked oddly a few times, looking around and shrugging the event off quickly. Ma Frye's hand shot out again.

"Now, that'n's Zoe. Married to that little thing of a pilot?"

"What? I'm a little thing now?"

"Don't worry, Wash," Kaylee said, "Ma'll get you all filled out no time."

Ma Frye smiled knowingly when Simon joined the crew with River hanging near his arm, sniffing the air. Simon bowed slightly, formally, and Ma twittered slightly. "Nice t' meet'cha, Simon. And your sister."

She guessed the immaculately-dressed Inara and the board-straight Shepherd without hitch. Jayne was last, taking his sweet time and rubbing one of his eyes like he'd just gotten out of bed. Ma's back straightened upon seeing him, and she smiled brightly again.

"Now that's Jayne Cobb or I been struck blind," she said simply. He nodded sleepily in her direction, attempting a smile.

"Howdy, Ma," he rumbled in a sleepy voice. "We got a weddin' t' go to, right?"

"Not 'til tomorrow, Jayne," Kaylee said as she squeezed her mother's hand tightly. "Anabell 'n the other's are prob'ly back home waitin' for us t' get in for dinner. So scoot!" She swatted playfully at Jayne's shoulder as he passed by. He deflected it easily despite his languor, offering her a sideways smirk.

"Don't gotta tell me twice."

All of the Frye sisters were waiting to greet them inside the massive, ancient farmhouse. Anastasia Bella--Anabell for short--was by far the tallest, almost meeting Jayne in the eye with her two intense brown orbs she seemed to have inherited from her mother. Winifred and Franny looked eerily akin to their father, who was tall and thin with wispy blond hair and large front teeth. These two were the eldest, and already married off with children. These little terrors buzzed around the feet of their elders, weaving between legs and enacting dogfights with the model ships in their hands. Introductions were long and wearisome for Mal, but none of the Fryes and their assorted relations ever stopped smiling.

Discussion was, of course, of the wedding. Andrew David McGuiness was a well-known local boy, well-worn with the brightest white smile. His family was dreadfully small, and was glad to have the addition of menfolk from _Serenity_ to help fill out the wedding party a little more completely. His best man was to be his brother of course, but when asked to be a part of the groom's party, Mal, Wash, and Jayne agreed. Anabell's Maid of Honor was to be Kaylee herself.

"Lessee," David held up his hand in preparation of counting. "That gives me Ricky, you, Captain Reynolds, and you, Mr. Cobb, and Mr. Wash too." He held up four fingers. "I got four, Anabell."

"I got Kaylee, Winnie and Franny. That only makes three for me." She tapped her fingers minutely on the table before her before turning toward the crew. "Darlin'? What's that little'n's name?"

"That's River," Kaylee said, "Simon's sister."

"River, hon? You wanna be in the wedding? It ain't much, just here on the farm with friends 'n family." Anabell smiled in what she hoped was an endearing way. She just loved even numbers, and hated for someone to walk down without a pretty girl on his arm.

River looked up from the food piled on her plate with widened eyes. Simon was about to politely reject the offer, but River nodded. "Two by two, need the missing piece. Ephemeral, evanescent butterflies dancing in greens and purples." Silence ensued after her comment, and she stuck a forkful of stuffing into her mouth. After swallowing, she clarified, "I will partake in the wedding party." She smiled happily and returned to her food.

Jayne had stopped paying attention after it seemed he wasn't the subject of the conversation any longer. He was sure they'd shout his name a few times when they wanted his attention again. Fortunately, he had tracker's ears and picked up on his name the next time it was mentioned in the snatch of a sentence.

"--and Wash, then Jayne and River followin', then--"

"Wait, what?" Jayne's head shot up, a spoonful of something halfway to his mouth. "Jayne 'n who?"

"Jayne 'n River," Kaylee clarified. "See, Rick's walkin' down with me, then the Cap'n and Winnie, Wash 'n Franny, then you 'n River. It's real simple, we got it drawn out and everything."

"You mean you're gonna get me all trussed up then send me down the aisle attached t'--" He waved his now-empty spoon vaguely in River's direction, "--t' that little crazy person?"

"That was the plan," Andrew David McGuiness said, looking concerned. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Why's it gotta be me, huh? Cap'n's better with 'er than me. Hell, she don't even like me!"

"Unsuitable," River murmured as she looked down at her food scrutinizingly. "Mismatched. Incompatible."

"You're tellin' me," Jayne grumbled, looking about at the others.

"No," she clarified, looking up at Jayne over her laden fork. "The butterfly and the crouching cat, always playing the same game of duck and weave. Unsuitable for this occasion. Must smile and pretend, a temporary alliance."

Jayne lowered his eyebrows, trying hard to decipher the cryptic girl, who looked suddenly very occupied with her potatoes. Mal grinned fondly at the girl, lowering a heavy hand down on Jayne's shoulder.

"That'd be crazy-talk for 'suck it up, Jayne, and let the pretty girl hold on t' yer arm for two gorram minutes'."

"I don't like it," Jayne murmured into his cup as he brought it to his lips.

"You aren't supposed to," Wash said discreetly, "it's a wedding."

Jayne realized quite fervently that he really did hate bow ties. And it was with a wary heart that he had to ask one of the girls to come in and tie it for him. He wasn't about to ask Mal to tie his bow tie. That was too close to another man for his liking. River's hair was half in its updo when she appeared to help, and she brushed the absent strands from her face as her little fingers began their work at his neck.

"This is downright embarrassing," he muttered, looking away at one of the many paintings along the wall of Kaylee's old room the men were using as their dressing room. "Man can't even get his own fingers t' listen to him, what good's he anymore?"

She tipped his chin up further to get a better angle on the bow tie. "Stop fidgeting," she instructed him. He growled lowly in response, glad that the other men were already finished and out of the room. He knew she was done when he felt the knot against his neck, and he cleared his throat and threw back his shoulders to adjust himself.

"You finished?" He asked.

"Task is completed."

"How I look?" He asked absently, standing from the chair and adjusting his shirt cuffs. He'd never been in a full-on suit before, and it made him feel stiff and starched.

"Suitable," she responded vaguely.

"I was lookin' for dashing," he muttered. He paused in his self-adjustments, watching as River stood as well. Her dress was a dark purple that worked well with her pale skin, a soft material that Jayne couldn't have placed if he tried. He cleared his throat again, looking at the mirror against the far wall and prodding at his bow tie. "Y' look nice." With that, he strode from the room to join the other men on the ground floor.

He left River baffled and blushing against all reason. Quickly, she rejoined the girls across the hall in Ma Frye's room to have her hair finished.

The friends and family, in total, numbered in the high sixties, and they filled out the entire length of yard from the farmhouse to the barn. Mismatched chairs from all over the moon, it seemed, were gathered facing the barn. There, an altar had been constructed, and a preacher awaited. Beside him stood Mr. McGuiness, awaiting his bride. Behind him, some locals had gathered together a quartet of instrument and were scraping out a fine tune.

One of Winnie's children signaled the start of the ceremony by dashing down the aisle and tossing flower petals every which way. Laughter, light and jovial, followed her antics. The quartet then paused and launched into a canon. That was the cue. Kaylee and the best man walked arm in arm grinningly down the aisle, waving minutely to those they knew. Mal was next, and as awkward as was expected. Winifred thought it was hilarious, and was hardly able to keep from laughing. Wash made up for it by looking like a complete gentleman with Franny on his arm.

Just before their turn came up, Jayne looked questioningly down at River, and sighed shortly out his nose. Her hair was completely up and out of her face, twisted high in a pretty bun with one curly ringlet bouncing into her eyes. He pressed his lips into a line, and, River realized, he was trying to give her a complimentary smile before they were off. He offered his arm, which she took without realizing she was grinning almost as brightly as Kaylee.

As they strode together down the aisle, she held herself close against his side. Heads undoubtedly turned, as both River and Jayne separately were known to do. Together, however... River heard every thought, some that made her fingers sink into Jayne's arm.

_She must be half his age_, one older man sniffed.

_Lecherous old dog_, one thought with an inner laugh. Another thought, _She has him tied around that little finger, doesn't she?_

_My, they just __**fit**_, one woman thought clear as a bell.

He unthinkingly held her arm closer to his side, and they continued on. Once they reached the altar, her fingers slipped from around his arm, and they parted. She tried to block out the thoughts of those around her, for they turned her stomach and sent her heart through her throat. Unsurprisingly, she missed most of the ceremony this way. She looked down at her long purple dress the entire time.

The tents set up on the other side of the barn served as the location for the reception. It was loud. There was live, loud music. There was food enough to feed three weddings. There was singing and dancing, red-faced and laughing friends all partaking in the good cheer and love that a wedding brought.

There was alcohol, so Jayne discovered. His bow tie was loosed, his jacket discarded across the back of a nearby chair. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and two buttons of his shirt undone. This was as loose as he was allowed to get at this function. He tossed back another drink, sitting in a mismatched wicker chair as he watched a drunk and awkward Malcolm Reynolds ask Inara Serra for a dance. She accepted, which made Jayne laugh from his position a good ways away. A lively fiddle tune was struck up, and everyone couldn't wait to see how Mal bumbled himself through this one.

The sun was low on the horizon, a pretty pink and orange dusk settling across the party. Everyone was paired up, it seemed to him. And, strangely, he didn't feel odd watching her dance. Her shoes were missing, no surprise to anyone that knew her. Her hair was coming down from its bun, and she was pink in the face from the quick tempo and bright laughter. He mussed his hair slightly, took another drink, and smacked his lips at the taste. She twirled, and the fabric of her dress followed. Turning and ducking, lilting one way only to spring away in the opposite direction. Fluttering and flitting across the grass, her little toes seeming to skim without touching the ground.

"Lookit 'er go," a young man standing beside him said in awe. Jayne scrutinized him immediately. One of Kaylee's cousins, a thin, redheaded boy. Jayne disliked him at once. The young man held up his drink from his side. "I'll drink t' that."

Jayne frowned, looked again at River dancing across the way, then mirrored by holding up his own drink. "T' the butterfly."

As the strings swelled down, and as Jayne stared his fifth drink in its face, he looked up to see bare feet standing before him. His glance ticked up to her eyes, alive and bright in the moment.

"Mustn't bring the bad luck," she told him quickly.

"What're you talkin' about?" He asked. "I ain't done nothin'."

"Exactly," she said. "Jayne's done nothing, and the ritual is nearly complete. Unless the wedding is to be showered in bad luck, Jayne must follow tradition."

"What kinda superstitious _go se_ you gonna spew at me now?"

She pouted slightly, and he lowered his shoulders instinctually. "You must dance with me."

He laughed at first, then stopped himself at the face she made. "What, it say somewhere that I don't dance with you and all this comes crashin' down 'round our gorram ears?"

"The wedding party must dance with one another," she said without acknowledging him, "or there will be bad luck."

After a long and arduous staring contest, he gave a loud sigh and set his drink down. "All right, s'long as you shut up about it." He stood, stretched slightly, then took her by the wrist. The designated dance area was far from where Jayne had been sitting, but there was a clearing between the chairs where they stood then, and that was where they stayed. She gripped his shoulder, and he slid one hand around her waist. She was straight-faced and determined.

It was a slow and pretty fiddle and guitar duo, bright and soft in the same moment. Many of the friends and family had retired to sitting and resting after so long and lively a reception. Far from the musicians, a tall, rugged mercenary danced with a pretty young woman. His arm had pulled her close, wrapped protectively across the small of her back, and her hand had unthinkingly migrated from his shoulder to his neck. Neither seemed to outwardly mind the contact, even if the man's eyes were focused on the exposed curve of her shoulder instead of her face.

Wash was the only one of the crew to notice. He saw the unexpected smirk from Jayne as she nearly tripped over a clump of grass, his strong arms compensating to catch her easy. Wash knew exactly what that redness coloring her cheeks was about. He remembered the same look from the first girl to have a crush on him in middle school. The thought almost sent him reeling, that the poor little girl had a crush on a man like Jayne Cobb.

All of the turning had an effect on the alcohol in Jayne's system, and he nearly stumbled once. He laughed self-depreciatingly and gripped River's hand instinctively. "I ain't too good at this," he mumbled, trying to look at where his feet were going.

"Doing fine," she said lowly, searching his face. "The bad luck will surely pass us by now."

"So, you ask me t' dance just t' scare away the bad luck, or you think it'd be funny to see me try t' dance?"

"If that was the desired outcome, I would have convinced someone prettier and more adept at dancing to ask you."

"Hey, don't be lyin', girl."

"Lying?" She just realized that he was finally looking at her. "What fallacies have I spoken?"

He paused just right, then shrugged, looking again at his feet. "You're plenty pretty." To amend what could have been awkward, he added: "I mean, all trussed up and... Well, y'know what I mean." He looked flustered, which was an accomplishment on her part.

His thoughts were unwillingly projected into her mind, and she was surprised to see herself reflected in him. She was dancing there, dress twirling and circling around her. She was smiling brightly, right at him, right back through to herself. She was a pretty violet butterfly there, cloaked in dusky light. His mind made her breath hitch up, just as the song wound down into nothing.

This was her chance, and she was going to take it. This was the moment, before he forgot and they went back to the steel and dark of _Serenity_. She tried to fortify herself, but something about the way he didn't move away directly after the song ended made her feel too soft and too exposed. But this was her chance.

"It is also tradition," she began in a low voice, not quite having the nerve to meet his eyes, "to... _kiss_ her after the dance is completed."

And he still didn't move away. So she tilted her gaze upward, to assess the extent of the damage she'd done. Far too long a pause took them as one stared right at and into the other. His mind was absolutely blank, like she'd wiped it clean with that one sentence. Jayne's eyes flicked almost imperceptibly to her lips, then back to her eyes. She was _awfully_ pretty, and just looking at him, and waiting. He swallowed nervously.

Then, like the heavens opening, he closed their short gap and kissed her once straight on the lips. He looked awful embarrassed, as if he'd done something incorrigible. When she said nothing, looking slightly shocked and red, he flushed brightly himself and felt downright sheepish.

It took her only one more quick moment to stand up on her toes to engage his lips again with hers. He took a sharp breath through his nose, and wordlessly laced his fingers in the loose hair at the back of her neck to pull her up against him. She melted, just like that, and would likely have gone right into the grass if she hadn't looped her arms up and around his neck.

After an agonizingly short span of time, Jayne pulled away to stare straight at the girl before him. "Gorram," he mumbled. His eyebrows knit down, but one edge of his lips turned up. "There weren't no bad luck at all, was there?"

"Not anymore," she returned without missing a beat. She wanted to kiss him again, but wasn't sure of the proper etiquette on that subject.

"One helluva way t' get my attention," he muttered. They said absolutely nothing for quite some time. Just as a loud, fast-tempoed fiddle song sprang up from the musicians, Jayne ducked down to kiss her again.

"That Cobb fella sure is a good liar," Winnie said, taking her hair down later that night in her room. Kaylee took the pins from her sister's hair, her own hanging loose from the exertion of the day.

"Huh? Why you gotta go an' say somethin' mean as that for?"

"I weren't tryin' t' be mean, just observin', s'all," Winnie defended herself. "When that captain 'a yours went 'n left me for the pretty gal in the silk, I had plenty 'a time fer observin'."

"Sorry 'bout the Cap'n, he's just got the biggest crush y' ever did see on Inara. He didn't mean nothin' by it."

"I know," Winnie clarified. "I weren't upset or nothin'. I like watchin' people more'n talkin' to 'em sometimes. And that Cobb fella's a good liar."

"Now look here, Winnie, Jayne's a real good friend 'a mine, and I won't take for someone callin' him names behind his back."

"If you'd stop bickerin' like an old hen for a second, Kaylee... I was just thinkin' on how much of a fuss that man was stirrin' at dinner last night 'bout havin' to walk down the aisle with the cute little River girl. And that fella's such a good liar, 'cause what do I see tonight when the party's a-windin' down? Him 'n his girl all wrapped up in one another in the back where they think no one can see 'em."

Kaylee faltered as she tugged another pin from Winnie's hair. "Naw, it must'a been some other girl. Jayne don't even like River."

Winnie laughed then, bright and loud. "Must mean he's a better liar'n I thought."

And so Kaylee wasn't surprised when she took down the stairs in the darkened hours of the morning to find Jayne and River laying together on the sofa. She was curled up on his chest, still in that pretty purple dress, like she was listening to him breathe. One of his hands had interlaced its fingers in her hair, which was barely up any longer, and the other anchored itself in the small of her back. It was shocking, but a warm smile took Kaylee's face despite herself.

All she could think of, watching them sleep, was Simon and herself in the bar in Canton. She threw a blanket over the both of them, eliciting a tired sigh from Jayne as he shifted only slightly, then nothing. They'd both have some explaining to do if the Captain or Simon found them like that, but Kaylee had a feeling Jayne would blame it on the alcohol, even if he hadn't had any. It'd be hairy on the boat for a while, but by the look of the two of them, it was all going to be worth it.

* * *

AN: Hello, folks, it's me again with your daily dose of Rayne! I know I should be writing the next chapter of V&V, but this little idea came into my head while I was listening to Nickel Creek again. They're fairly influental when it comes to Firefly I suppose, because I just got inspired again last night for another Nickel-Creek-based-Rayne-fic. Geez, I just don't stop, do I? Anyway, this one was a sweet fiddle song called "Ode to a Butterfly," which mandolin-player Chris Thile claims won the grammy for "Most Effeminate Title of a Fiddle Song." Hope you have fun reading, as I had much fun writing it. Cheers, and thanks for reading! 


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